


Life, thereafter

by withered



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Also Russian/Romanian Bucky, Bucky lives in Romania, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Gen, Legit a thing, M/M, No Wakandan kings were harmed in the making of this story, Not Steve Friendly, Not Team Captain America Friendly, Not Wanda Friendly, Original Character(s), Peggy voices an AI, Pro-Accords, Vaguely Baker!Winter Soldier, What if Bucky had a daughter, What if Bucky just stayed in Romania, What if Bucky wasn't involved in the CW, Which was weird, but also kind of fun, kind of, the winteriron is at the end, this is pre-winteriron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 23:43:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14821145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withered/pseuds/withered
Summary: The last thing anyone would've expected the Winter Soldier to do once he left HYDRA was to live in a closet of an apartment in Romania with his weird-clone-for-a-daughter, go from assassin to baker, take shit from an old lady, and scour the internet for information about Tony Stark.But that's just his life now.For an anon prompt:civil war au where same story except Bucky lives in Romania with his (female clone?)teenage daughter from HYDRA. she REALLY doesn’t like Steve and think Tony is reasonable one in this hole mess. winteriron in the end.





	Life, thereafter

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: civil war au where same story except Bucky lives in Romania with his (female clone?)teenage daughter from HYDRA. she REALLY doesn’t like Steve and think Tony is reasonable one in this hole mess. winteriron in the end. 
> 
> I took this very seriously. The winteriron is legit at the end. 
> 
> Also, I'm using the headcanon that Peggy inspired the voice of one of Tony's new AIs, though Friday still exists, she just isn't mentioned in this story.

After abandoning HYDRA the year before, the last thing James saw himself doing was balancing grocery bags as he fiddled with the keys for his closet of an apartment in a small nowhere town in Romania. Let alone opening the door to music playing from the radio in the kitchen, dinner simmering over the stove and his daughter bent over a notebook at the nook. A picture of domesticity.

Kicking the door shut with his heel and pausing to apply all the locks and the chain, he juggled the bags until he got to the kitchen counter.  

“How was school?” he greeted.

“Annoying,” she complained.

“What are you doing?”

“Homework.” Looking up at him with the same blue-grey eyes he saw in the mirror to acknowledge him fully. “What did you get?”

“More notebooks, food, medical supplies,” he said as he emptied the bag.

Peering at his bounty, her lips turned in a pout. “No chocolate?”

He pretended to make a thoughtful expression, patted his coat pockets and then made a face of “oh, there it is!” and pulled out the slab.

Making grabby hands at him, he broke it in half before passing it to her with a chuckle. “Did you keep an eye on the stew?”

“It’s still cooking,” she reported, stuffing as much of the slab into her mouth as possible.

He snorted, grabbing a stray dishrag and reaching over to clean up the mess on her cheeks. "Were you paying attention to it?”

Conceeding to his grooming with feigned benevolence, Daciana retorted, “It was that or do homework, three guesses which I find more entertaining.”

James set aside the dishrag, tugging one of her braids teasingly before returning to his task of unpacking their supplies.

Undeterred by his lack of attention now that she was clean, she demanded, "Why do I even have to do to go to school, anyway? We both know I’m smarter than everyone there.”

“Malyshka, it’s called keeping a low profile.”

“We weren’t even supposed to stay this long,” she complained, pouting at him. “They know our names.”

“You made yours up,” he pointed out, shutting the cupboard. “By the way, the Gaelic meaning for ‘Wicked Man’ in your name, isn’t subtle.”

“Technically in Romanian it means wolf, so it’s more a nod to you than anything else, Papochka,” she informed primly.

He snorted. “Smart ass.”

It freaked him out, once, coming to terms with his daughter. Though, clone was more correct.

Granted, with the opposite reproductive parts and far younger at eleven, biologically. The Hydra scientists couldn’t help fiddling with the genetic coding, of course, and they’d theorized that starting the Winter Soldier programme young was the key to Hydra’s ultimate army, a Red Room program that had no need for recruits when they could be synthesized from their only operating Winter Soldier.

James had held out the hope that the experiment would fail, but early last year she was deemed a success which made taking her with on his desertion of Hydra a necessity.

It helped that she identified him as family, and instinctively trusted him more than their handlers.

Having her around was certainly helpful. If it weren’t for her sweet looking face, they probably wouldn’t have gotten as far as they had on the run. The only reason they had this apartment, after all, was because the old woman that ran the bakery downstairs thought she was adorable and couldn’t abide by her crappy father not being able to provide for her.

Every day the old woman could, she gave him shit for it.

Given that she provided him work in the meanwhile to “get on his feet”, James couldn’t complain too much.

“What's all these newspapers for?”

“Current affairs,” she said before pulling a newspaper article to the forefront. “Papochka, this might interest you, actually.”

**UN MEETING OF THE SLAVIC ACCORDS THIS WEEK, WORLD LEADERS MAKE THEIR WAY TO VIENNA**

“Accountability for enhanced beings and superheroes,” he read aloud, glancing at her. “You think this is legit?”

She shrugged. “How many people died when those helicarriers dropped last year?”

He grimaced. Fair.

“Why didn’t they get someone better with technology to help with that,” she mused, “instead of a seventy-year-old technophobe and a spy whose only computer skill is hacking and wiki-leaking.”

“Steve isn’t a technophobe,” he was quick to correct, and when she only gave him a look, he allowed, “He’s just…not particularly fond of technology.”

“You remember him better now?”

“Hence the notebooks,” James gestured.

“Good because I can’t keep gagging you when you scream in your sleep,” she smarted, though managed to look sympathetic all the same, before adding, "You need therapy.”

“Yes, because someone would know how to handle a hundred-year-old brainwashed POW.”

“Don’t sass me.”

“I think you’re confusing our ages, lisichka.”

She rolled her eyes, smile still tugging at her lips. “I’m just saying. I don’t think we can stay hidden forever.”

“What’s the alternative?” One of the upsides of the HYDRA-serum was being able to run on multiple cylinders, in this case, juggling various memories turned nightmares; constantly having to keep an ear to the ground to make sure they weren’t discovered; avoiding both what remained of SHIELD along with HYDRA, and remembering the recipe of the best damned Amandine on this side of Romania. But even he knew when he was stretched too thin and needed help.

Most people would probably take issue asking an eleven-year-old for help, but she wasn’t his little girl for nothing.

“This,” she said, presenting him with the article.

 **IRONMAN, ONBOARD WITH THE SLAVIC ACCORDS**.

“He’s never trusted SHIELD,” she recalled. “He’s created a pretty solid fortress for keeping HYDRA out, all while maintaining the appearance of a carefree, egotistical, billionaire-philanthropist. He’s got the security of his own personally made, personally piloted Iron Man suits; his own self-contained army in the Iron Legion; the intelligence to create the future and the will-power to be at the forefront of it. Tony Stark is the safest bet we have against SHIELD, HYDRA and the rest of the world.”

“And you think he’ll be willing to help us?”

“It’s worth asking; if anything else we can give him what we have about HYDRA and offer to be another layer of protection to him. Who would want to go against all that, and a pair of Winter Soldiers?”

“Besides,” she added, in the contemplative silence that followed, “you still have the triggers, and we don’t have a secure location or the tools to deal with it. If anyone would know how to help, it would be him.”

Going through that angle would be…tricky. 

There was no guarantee that Tony Stark wouldn’t take advantage of a completely-compliant Winter Soldier. Even if his little one hadn’t had the triggers uploaded yet due to her _good behavior, a feat of HYDRA engineering,_ she wouldn’t be enough to go up against James in total mission mode. “Think he would?”  

 “He’ll help,” she insisted, turning wide eyes at him. “Tony Stark…he’s,” she paused, biting her lip, brows furrowed between displeasure in discomfort before she admitted, “ _Tony Stark is good.”_

“Good,” he murmured in an exhale, “if you think so.”

She nodded firmly. “He is. I know he is.”

“That your programming talking?”

She nodded absently, eyes lingering over the handsome man in the picture. Probably taking in the bruises beneath equally tired eyes that were hidden well beneath the grinning veneer of charming showman. For a rich guy with the whole world at his feet, he looked lonely on that stage. “How do you think SHIELD manipulated him?”

James hummed, pressing a kiss against her dark hair. “Well, hopefully he has some goodness to spare for us.”

Again, she nodded, and as he withdrew to check on their dinner, she informed, “I’ll contact him then?”

“Cover the trace.”

She scowled. “I’m not an amateur, Papochka.”

Unfortunately, before she could establish Tony Stark’s direct communication line after a few days of cyber wizardry, one of his security guards of sorts, stepped up and seemingly fried the old school laptop she jerry-rigged to life.

Before she could get too upset about her efforts going to waste, a voice coming from the black screen of the laptop asked, tone stern unmistakably British, “Identify yourself.”

They glanced at each other.

When the “dead” computer said nothing more, he finally settled on introducing himself, “James Buchannan Barnes, codename: The Winter Soldier.”

The little camera blinked red, and after exchanging a look, she repeated the sentiment, “Daciana Tatiana Barnes, codename: The Winter Doll.”

They were prepared to wait it out for the computer to verify their identities but were fortunately spared any more time wasting when the voice informed, “HYDRA has lost you.”

“They were ditched,” Daciana corrected, before saying quickly, “We’re looking for Tony Stark, we need to speak to him.”

“Tony Stark is currently unavailable,” she droned.

“Wait a second,” he interjected when it sounded like she was going to hang up on them, “Miss…I’m sorry, who are you?”

“I’m the Helpful-Autonomous-Interface-Learning-to-Echo-a-Youth, or Hailey, for short. I’m Doctor Stark’s primary security artificial intelligence.”

After a brief glance at one another, a silent language they’d mastered quickly while still in Hydra’s clutches, James asked, “What’s your analysis of us?”

Hailey paused, before, “You’ve infiltered a large portion of the Doctor’s security protocols, something most people have yet to do without triggering any of the alarms. While your skill is admirable, I will not fail to protect Doctor Stark.”

“We don’t want to hurt him,” Daciana said, placating, “we just want to speak to him.”

“Please hold.”

Again, there was a silence before a light emitted from the camera seemingly scanning them until, “Your location indicates a large arsenal of personal weaponry, do you deny it?”

 “I’m a recovering assassin,” James interjected but was quickly shushed by his daughter with an elbow to the ribs.

“We’re also hiding from HYDRA, and what remains of SHIELD,” she explained before turning to plead, “Please, we won’t take much of his time, it’s just…we don’t have anyone else we can trust, and if he refuses to speak to us, or help us, it’s totally fine but we need to know we’ve exhausted the option – and _he is the best option_.”

Another pause and James had the distinct impression that Hailey was considering, before she spoke once more, “Unfortunately Doctor Stark is unavailable due to political turmoil at this moment in time, but I will pass the message along.”

The breath they had been collectively holding was released, and both he and Daciana were about to thank her anyway until the laptop shorted out, and that was that.

“That went well,” he exhaled.

“It did…I…I don’t think she’s going to tell _on_ us, and she’ll at least mention us to Tony…”

“You got faith in the robot lady, malyshka?”

“I’m not so good at reading artificial intelligence,” she admitted, “but she’s Tony’s, and Tony is good.” James took her word for it and resolved that they’d be waiting to hear from the genius, if he ever called, that is.

Over the next few days, the frustration started to brew.

Waiting was hardly a difficult task for either of them. They’d been in varying states of frozen over the past few years, but usually, they had some sign as to when something would happen, something to pick clues at to pass the time when they were on a mission.

In this case, they had a busted laptop and Hailey’s word, and neither had anything to offer.

The internet was a bit more helpful:

“The man is everywhere,” James declared as she shut the front door.

Dramatically, Daciana ditched her school bag, throwing herself face down on the couch beside his thigh.

"Can you even believe, lishika, he's got a finger in every pie– electricity, handheld devices, cars, _buildings_ ; this retro-framing stuff to help treat PTSD and certain forms of neurosis; the legion that provides disaster relief; and wherever he can give the stuff away for free, _he just does_?” James recalled, baffled. “He turned his pop’s weapons’ company into the biggest world-saving corporation in the world.”

“Did he call us back?” she asked into the material of the couch.

He hummed. “No, but for a man who’s nearly fifty, he looks swell.”

She groaned. “I hope Hailey didn’t plant something during her scan to listen in on us, she’ll probably think it’s just as weird that my dad thinks her dad looks _swell_.”

“I’m just stating a _straight fact_ , as you like to call it.”

“That’s the only thing straight about either of you,” she remarked flatly.

Then, the news articles started flooding in:

“I can’t believe this,” Daciana exhaled, before reciting the headline, “Captain America faces off against 117 countries as he _opposes_ the Slavic Accords.”

Oh, god. That couldn’t be good.

Stark was one of its most recognizable superhero supporters, that was probably what Hailey meant about political turmoil. Fucking fantastic. And there was no way Steve was going to back down, the man was stubborn as hell even when he couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag, and now he looked like he birthed American Eagles by sneezing.

“Does it say why?” James asked through his brewing headache.

“Something about not trusting the government which is rich coming from a walking-talking-singing propaganda scheme,” she declared with a huff. “What a pain.”

Over the next few hours, the story spiraled:

 **CAPTAIN AMERICA LEADS THE CHARGE AGAINST THE WORLD** (“Apparently it has something to do with a Wanda Maximoff, why does that name sound so familiar?”); **FOURTEEN INJURED IN ATTACK, WHO IS “HYDRA”?** (“It’s happening…” James grimaced. “It was going to happen, with or without us.” Daciana frowned. “Was it?”); **AIRPORT TOTALLED IN “CIVIL WAR”** (“It won’t,” James finally decided, the memory sluggish to come to the surface – with all the repression his brain had been pushing on his psyche, trying to block the nightmares, trying to _move on_ – but then, the Chair, ironically, he’d always remember the Chair – and the second location – the Bunker – the other Soldiers. “ _Oh, god_.”)

A glance between one another was all they needed before they scrambled around their closet of an apartment, half-way between preparing to leave and gearing up for what would be an all-out war, a sharp rap on their door stilled them both.

With glacial slowness, they exchanged another look.

“Yes, who’s there?” Daciana answered, the Romanian words settling easily on her tongue as she slid her knife over her knuckles once before slipping it into the baggy sleeve of her sweater to hide it from sight.

Someone’s throat cleared from behind the door, and then, in English, “Looking for Straight-Facts Daciana.”

“I knew it,” she muttered smirking despite herself.

Peering through the peephole, James winced.

Tony Stark looked even better in person.

Hell, even after a firefight in an airport less than three hours ago, he was leaning against the door frame like some playboy in a flight-suit, fluffed up dark hair and well-groomed goatee framing a pink mouth.  

If it really weren’t for the flight-suit, James would think he was about to be swept off his feet.

Through the peephole, impossibly, Tony Stark met his eye; the prettiest brown eyes framed by dusky lashes and just the barest, nervous bite of a plump lip.

Oh yeah, he was definitely getting swept off his feet, other Winter Soldiers or not.

A few feet away, Daciana snorted. “Called it.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Russian words that I googled for "terms of endearment between children and parents", sorry, I couldn't get the accents to work on my keyboard:  
> malyshka: baby  
> Papochka : dad  
> lisichka: little fox  
> Thank you Aliska for the corrections *cries in English*
> 
> Also, Amandine is apparently a traditional Romanian chocolate cake which James obvs knows how to make now.
> 
> Also a clarification on the canon divergence:  
> The Civil War doesn't occur because of Bucky, rather because of Wanda as I thought was originally going to be the case the first time I watched CW. So yeah, no Zemo plot. 
> 
> Since Steve got Wanda out of "house arrest" the Accords council wants to make Wanda accountable for her actions since clearly the Avengers can't be trusted to unbiasedly discipline a member of their team, and because Steve doesn't think that's fair, that's what he and Tony fight about. 
> 
> Canon-CW actually follows just fine without Zemo involved, though HYDRA is to blame for the UN blowing up and they take credit for it, gearing up for their big debut with the other sleeping WSs. Wanda, still a HYDRA operative (shocker, really), intends to wake up the sleeping WSs by convincing Steve they're going to the Bunker to kill them rather than wake them. And hey, isn't that a good plot, put all the people that could possibly stop them in one place? Ahem, anyway.
> 
> Tony still wants to help Steve despite the whole Wanda situation, but he knows something ain't right, and who better to bring as back-up than two WSs of his own? Especially since both his WSs know something isn't right with Little Miss Ruby Red.
> 
> I feel like this story would've been a lot cooler if I had the writing chops and the patience for it, but my will to write is zero so there you go, James' experience of CW without Zemo.
> 
> [Click here if you want to find out more about my work](https://everything-withered.tumblr.com/)


End file.
